


Natural Exception

by boonies



Category: Dong Bang Shin Ki, JYJ - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:12:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boonies/pseuds/boonies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys are suddenly afflicted with five really embarrassing superpowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural Exception

*

 

Yoochun wakes up with a headache.

 

He attributes it to staying up all night to compose a piece entirely made up of dingbats, but then Jaejoong rolls over, four feet away, and Yoochun hears an echoey little _you can't mix kimchi with_ _chocolate_.

 

Which is not a thing Yoochun or a sane person would ever come up with, so, logically, there's only one explanation.

 

Yoochun can read Jaejoong's mind.

 

"I can read your mind," he says once Jaejoong is awake and sitting up.

 

"Cool," Jaejoong yawns.

 

And then all color drains from his face and he bolts from the room with a hastily thrown, "I gotta go, sorry."

 

Confused, Yoochun meanders into the kitchen, scratching around the waistband of his boxers.

 

"So..." Yunho greets him, bent over the sink, "...what do you call it when you can move objects with just your mind?"

 

Yoochun pauses. "Science fiction?"

 

"Telepathy," Junsu offers, slipping into the kitchen with a kittenish stretch of his arms.

 

"Telekinesis," Changmin corrects grumpily, materializing behind him.

 

"Oh," Yunho says. He glances at the ceiling. "Yeah. I think I have that."

 

Dismissively, Changmin sighs and pulls up a chair, busying himself with a bowl of cereal. He grabs for one of the spoons scattered messily on the table. The spoon slides just out of reach.

 

Frowning, Changmin grabs for it again.

 

The spoon flies off the table and embeds itself into one of the ugly paintings in the hallway.

 

"Oh my god," Junsu says in English, "you have telepathy."

 

"No," Yoochun says calmly, because he's clearly still asleep. " _I_ have telepathy. Yunho has telekinesis." He rubs at his face. "Somehow?"

 

Changmin glances at his bowl, then his hand where the spoon should be, then the wall, then Yunho.

 

And then he knocks a glass of orange juice to the floor.

 

"Why don't _I_ have telekinesis," he complains to the shattered pieces, then scrunches up his nose, focusing so hard his face turns red and white all at once.

 

"What are you doing," Junsu mumbles worriedly.

 

"Trying to teleport," Changmin grits out, straining, fists balled up. "I read this in a manhwa, hold on."

 

"You'll give yourself a stroke," Yunho says, turning serious. "And unless you're suddenly immortal—"

 

Changmin perks up.

 

He jumps up with an excited grin, chair turning over, and starts for the window.

 

Instantly, Yunho catches him by the shoulder. " _No_."

 

"...if you people missed it the first time I said it, I can read Jaejoong's mind?" Yoochun volunteers.

 

Yunho gives him an unimpressed _I just saved maknae from free-falling to his death_ look and gingerly steers Changmin back to the kitchen table.

 

"Just Jaejoong's mind?" Junsu asks, eyes narrowed.

 

Yoochun flexes his ears but hears nothing.

 

"Yeah."

 

Junsu sticks out a pouty bottom lip.

 

"Eh, how's that different from usual," he shrugs then makes a beeline towards Yunho. "Hyung, make that chair fly. No, make _me_ fly—"

 

"I'm not making anything fly—" Yunho starts authoritatively.

 

"...except spoons..." Changmin mumbles.

 

"—until we figure out what's going on," Yunho finishes, contemplating the phone. "Should we call our manager?"

 

Yoochun's pretty sure their manager would hand-sew five matching crime-fighting uniforms and market that as the next comeback concept, so he hastily unplugs the phone and suggests, "Let's wait."

 

Yunho stares for a moment, then nods. "Anyone else notice anything weird?"

 

Junsu pauses to think. "We lost two movie channels last week?"

 

"...with their bodies..." Yunho stresses.

 

Junsu spins around to examine himself.

 

Changmin mimics, only with more restraint.

 

"Maybe it's some kind of messed up DNA mutation that only affects the y-genes of y-names," he says studiously, patting himself down, "like Yunho-hyung and Yoochun-hyung."

 

Changmin really needs to stop reading manhwa.

 

"Changminnie," Yunho mutters carefully, then seems to just give up on tact. "It's time to wean you off."

 

"It makes as much sense," Changmin shrugs, "as you two waking up with superpowers."

 

Yoochun can't really argue with that so he lifts a saucer off the table and spins it, experimentally.

 

"What are you doing," Junsu sighs.

 

"I want telekinesis, too."

 

Annoyed, Yunho steps close to bat at his hand, but only succeeds in sending the saucer hurtling to the ceiling.

 

It shatters above Junsu's head.

 

Instinctively, Junsu raises his arms to protect himself.

 

A tiny adorable kitten claw pops up from each of his fingernails.

 

The saucer pieces smash to the ground around him.

 

The room freezes.

 

And then Changmin's on the floor, convulsing around a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

 

"It's... oh," Yunho starts tactfully, face suspiciously blank, "...a good... ah... a useful...? Uh... not a very ridiculous power...?"

 

Changmin's roars of laughter bounce off the walls, growing louder.

 

Mournfully, Junsu inspects his claws and Yoochun can hear an echoey little _I kinda wanna keep these_.

 

Calm, Yoochun glances at Junsu, then revises his previous statement to: "Okay, no, wait, I can read everyone's minds, sorry."

 

The laughter stops immediately.

 

Changmin sits up, on guard. "That's not funny."

 

Yoochun gives a helpless little shrug.

 

"That's an invasion of privacy," Changmin rants, jumping to his feet and trying to flee the room.

 

Roughly, Yunho yanks him back by his t-shirt collar. "Nobody's going _anywhere_ until we figure out what's—"

 

A muffled little noise of delight filters through to Yoochun and his eyes widen.

 

"Wow," he grins, eyes crinkling. "I knew it."

 

Changmin's cheeks darken as he snaps, frothing at the mouth, "HYUNG, YOU CAN'T DO THIS, IT'S ILLEGAL—"

 

Baffled, Yunho glances from one to the other. "What, why?" He fixes his eyes on Changmin's, perturbed. "What the hell were you thinking about?"

 

"YOU," Changmin hollers, then smacks both hands over his mouth, completely horrified.

 

Yoochun can hear a loud, anguished _noooooooooooo_ , and his grin turns wicked.

 

"Maknae," he sings, totally unrepentant, "what were you thinking about."

 

"Yunho," Changmin replies, screaming obscenities in his head. "NO! NO, STOP ASKING ME THINGS."

 

"...he can't lie," Junsu breathes, eyes glinting with so much evil Yoochun feels stupidly proud. "He can't lie, you guys. This is the best day in the history of days."

 

Yunho lets go, jaw slack.

 

"Changmin-ah," Junsu purrs, sidling up, "did you eat the bento my mom sent me last week?"

 

"Yes," Changmin says desperately then tries to run away again.

 

" _No one's gonna be abusing these powers_ ," Yunho commands with a low growl.

 

Junsu lowers his head, looking contrite.

 

Unsupervised, Changmin bolts.

 

Invisible strings freeze him in his tracks.

 

"...starting now," Yunho amends.

 

*

 

The deal is to avoid each other.

 

And the world outside.

 

For a day.

 

And see how it goes.

 

But Yoochun's worried about Jaejoong and so he searches their room, then the bathroom, then the studio, but Jaejoong's nowhere to be found.

 

Briefly, Yoochun wonders if maybe Jaejoong's power has something to do with invisibility, but that would be a cruel punishment, one Yoochun and the world don't deserve.

 

He finds Jaejoong on the balcony, squatting in a corner, industrial-strength headphones perched atop his frizzy bleached head.

 

"Hyung," Yoochun starts but Jaejoong flinches, plucking leaves off a dying fern.

 

"NOT NOW," he shouts over the deafening music.

 

Yoochun scowls and crouches down in front of him.

 

He removes one headphone and says, "Apparently, we all have superpowers."

 

Oddly panicked, Jaejoong leans away. "I know, I was listening."

 

Yoochun shuts the music off. "Did you get one?"

 

"Yep."

 

Yoochun waits.

 

And waits.

 

"So..."

 

Fastidiously, Jaejoong ignores him.

 

Yoochun frowns.

 

Jaejoong's radiating heat like a furnace so maybe he's got that one power where he can set himself on fire—

 

_...want to spread you like butter..._

 

Yoochun's ears perk up.

 

"What did you say."

 

"Nothing," Jaejoong grumbles and pushes him away.

 

Except his hands linger, fingers tangling urgently in Yoochun's t-shirt.

 

_...then mount you like an animal..._

 

"Oh, god," Yoochun exhales, shaky. "What kind of power did you get."

 

Jaejoong turns big helpless eyes on him. "The kind that makes me want to—"

 

_...fuck you senseless..._

 

Yoochun's stomach knots.

 

"So..." he manages, licking his lips, heart hammering in medically impossible ways, "...let's just avoid each other for the rest of the day?"

 

"Yes, please."

 

*

 

 

By noon, Yoochun can't stand it.

 

He keeps pacing the bedroom, keenly aware of the empty space where Jaejoong should be.

 

He texts everyone to let them know he'll be roaming the apartment, then throws on seven shirts and two pajama pants over his boxers, pulls his hair into a long messy ponytail, and drags a blanket out to the balcony.

 

On his way out, he notices Junsu trailing persistently after Changmin even though they're supposed to be confined to their bedroom and living room, respectively, asking stuff like, "Do you like my butt," and "if Yunho-hyung and me were both drowning—"

 

Yoochun slides the balcony door closed as quietly as possible.

 

"Did you tell anyone," Jaejoong asks tiredly, slumped against the railing.

 

Yoochun tosses the blanket at him. "Yeah, I sent a memo to the company. Made a newsletter and distributed it to the fans. There's a line forming."

 

Jaejoong's lips twitch.

 

Yoochun plops down next to him, tucking the blanket around Jaejoong and trying to ignore the pangs of borrowed want radiating from him.

 

"So..." he starts delicately, "you're just really horny?"

 

Jaejoong groans, burying his head into the blanket between his knees.

 

Yoochun licks his lips again.

 

A joke.

 

He needs to make a joke.

 

"Hey, how's that different from—" he starts but Jaejoong lifts his head.

 

"I'm gonna kiss you," he growls and then his hands are sneaking out from beneath the blanket and grasping at Yoochun's shoulders. "Sorry."

 

Yoochun's circulation quits.

 

Jaejoong kisses him, mouth working like it's meant for this.

 

"Sorry," he keeps saying around Yoochun's bottom lip, squishing him against the wobbly railing.

 

Yoochun's not sorry nor coherent, but he's pretty responsible, so he's gonna stop this.

 

By... letting out a needy little moan, apparently.

 

Jaejoong gives a surprised mewl, considers for a moment, then goes back in hard, tongue moving in wet achy slides.

 

One of his hands reaches for the drawstring of Yoochun's two pairs of pajama pants, and Yoochun is definitely gonna stop this.

 

In a minute.

 

"That's a weird superpower," Changmin says.

 

Belatedly, Yoochun registers the screen door flapping in the wind.

 

"Is this new," Junsu asks.

 

"Them making out?" Changmin deadpans.

 

"No, the fern."

 

Lungs burning, Yoochun slowly pushes himself away from Jaejoong.

 

Jaejoong buries his hands under the blanket with a tiny guilty whimper.

 

Yoochun's face is super hot, so he scrambles up and turns accusatory eyes to Junsu and Changmin. "What happened to avoiding each other?"

 

Incredulous, Changmin raises both eyebrows. "Says the guy we just caught with his tongue down—"

 

"Yunho wants us to discuss the situation," Junsu interrupts, crossing himself. He dips his fingers into one of the flower pots and sprinkles water at everyone as though dispersing evil spirits.

 

Jaejoong winces. "I can't..."

 

"Not optional," Changmin shrugs, sizes Yoochun up with a curious scowl, then grins down at Jaejoong. "What's your power? Is it worse than mine?"

 

"Way worse," Jaejoong says.

 

His fingers inch out of the blanket and wrap around Yoochun's right ankle with purpose.

 

Yoochun tries to ignore the heat spreading through his skin.

 

"Can you try and sit in one room with everyone?" he asks, aiming for blasé and landing somewhere between sounding hard-pressed and just hard.

 

Jaejoong gives him an intense smolder. "No."

 

Yoochun bites back a groan at the uninvited visuals, then tries again. "Maybe we can just tie you up—"

 

Jaejoong's gaze turns sharp, followed by a loud, angry, _I'd probably like that._

 

Yoochun wraps his fingers around the railing, knuckles white.

 

*

 

Turns out Jaejoong can, in fact, sit in one room with everyone.

 

As long as he's curled up in Yoochun's lap.

 

Which isn't awkward or weird or horrible at all.

 

"This actually _is_ the best day," Changmin says to himself as Yunho scrubs at his forehead in frustration.

 

"So let me get this straight," Yunho sighs, "he _has_ to touch someone all the time?"

 

Jaejoong burrows deeper into Yoochun's neck.

 

"Yeah, and we sacrificed Yoochun-hyung," Junsu nods, "since he doesn't mind."

 

Yoochun wants to shout that he does fucking mind, that he minds a lot, but Jaejoong's arms wrap around his shoulders, lips nuzzling his cheek and Yoochun would kinda, probably, definitely fucking mind watching him do this to someone else, so he keeps his mouth firmly shut.

 

"Okay, yeah," Yunho says, pushing his fingers into his eye sockets so hard Yoochun worries they're gonna have to scoop brain gunk off the floor, "so we definitely can't call management."

  
"What," Changmin drawls sarcastically, "like they've never had to deal with someone turning into a cat, a dude who can't lie, a guy who can break a lot of plates, and two sex maniacs—"

 

"...I'm a _telepath_..." Yoochun corrects but Jaejoong grinds his ass over his junk on a particularly rough downward shift, and Yoochun's not sure if Jaejoong's power is contagious or _really_ _fucking contagious_ because all Yoochun wants to do now is push Jaejoong off and lock himself in the bathroom for at least an hour.

 

"Did we eat something weird?" Yunho asks tiredly, leaning against the ottoman.

 

Cheerfully, Junsu flips through Changmin's stack of manhwa for ideas, contributing a conspiratorial, "Maybe we pissed off some witch sasaeng."

 

"Or maybe some trainees are trying to get rid of the competition," Changmin concurs, tossing a manhwa with a similar trope to the coffee table.

 

"What if," Junsu says, eyes widening, "this is phase one and we'll wake up tomorrow and evolve into our final forms and I'll be a giant cat—"

 

"Consider your games and manhwa confiscated," Yunho says, rising. He paces the length of the living room several times, wearing a hole or seven into the carpet.

 

"If this is a permanent thing," he reasons, concerned, "we can probably hide most of it, but..." his eyes drift to Yoochun and Jaejoong.

 

" _Changmin's_ a liability, too," Jaejoong points out vindictively.

 

Changmin knocks down a stack of comics. "Not if people don't ask me anything."

 

" _We're idols_ ," Jaejoong grits out, voice catching as he mindlessly slips a hand under four of Yoochun's shirts, seeking skin.

 

Yoochun squirms uncomfortably.

 

"Don't take out your sexual frustration on me," Changmin warns. "It's bad enough you stole my first kiss last year—"

 

The kitchen cabinets fly open with violent force.

 

Colorful stoneware clatters to the floor in a giant broken mess.

 

"What," Yunho says darkly. "What. You did what."

 

"It was an accident," Jaejoong returns defensively. "He fell on me. It doesn't count. IT WAS ON THE NOSE."

 

There's a sudden spike of rage suffocating the room but it's making Yoochun oddly pleased because what is this kissing shit, who the hell just falls on people, how the fuck does that translate to kissing—

 

His mind is full of vengeful thoughts but they're only _half_ his.

 

He lifts his head to lock eyes with Yunho.

 

_Never repeat any of that_ , Yunho threatens.

 

Wow, Yoochun thinks.

 

There's gonna be so much bribing once this is all over.

 

He's gonna be spoiled rotten.

 

Yunho narrows his eyes.

 

...Yoochun's gonna be in so much trouble.

 

Gently, Jaejoong lifts the last remaining t-shirt in his way and walks his fingers up Yoochun's stomach and chest, parking his fingers around a nipple.

 

In front of everyone.

 

"I should've stayed with Hyukjae," Junsu eulogizes, turning his head away and shielding his field of vision with a magazine. "I should've gone to SuJu. I should've listened to my mom."

 

Sighing, Yunho gets to his feet and pads over to pat his head, mindful of the kitten claws. "Let's just... go to bed and sleep it off and see what happens in the morning."

 

"It's 2 PM," Changmin says, frustrated.

 

"Then go play video games," Yunho snaps, "just stay away from Jaejoong."

 

That sounds super wrong and bad and incorrect and Yoochun can hear the hurt little whine Changmin's projecting, but he's too busy trying not to push Jaejoong off his lap and into the couch to help.

 

Junsu rises, tugging Changmin up. "Need a hug?"

 

"Yes," Changmin says, then groans. "Stop saying words, shit, what kind of stupid power is this."

 

"Honesty is a virtue," Junsu nods piously and drags him off.

 

Their bedroom door shuts to the sounds of scuffle and Yunho instantly bears down on the remaining two.

 

"You're not children," he starts, expression deathly serious, "so I don't need to lecture you on not fucking up."

 

All Jaejoong is repeating in his head is ~ _fucking_ , so Yoochun takes it upon himself to nod and promise, "We won't."

 

But then Yunho's gone and it's just Jaejoong and Yoochun and the couch.

 

*

 

"Maybe we're supposed to save the city from some huge disaster," Yoochun says, trying to distract Jaejoong from slipping his hands into Yoochun's pajamas.

 

Jaejoong hums against his nape. "From what. Inflation?"

 

"Junsu could probably pop it," Yoochun says with a dazed grin.

 

He's sprawled, stomach-down, on the couch, somehow, and Jaejoong's shifting above him, clumsy and demanding all at once. "Did we lie to Yunho."

 

Yoochun tries to shake his head but honestly, he can feel every hard inch of Jaejoong pressing into his thigh and he's burning up from the constant light lingering touches and quick wet pecks and rough insistent licks, so...

 

"No," Yoochun says, adding a mental _not yet_. "Do you wanna take the bedroom or should I?"

 

Jaejoong pauses.

 

"Stay for one more hour."

 

Yeah, one more hour and lines will be crossed, so nope.

 

"Okay," Yoochun finds himself saying.

 

*

 

In an hour, Yoochun is wound so tight every little thing threatens to set him off.

 

"I wanna take them off," Jaejoong says, voice heavy with lust, fingers looped around the waistband of Yoochun's last pair of pajama pants. "Can I take them off, Yoochunnie."

 

Yoochun doesn't care.

 

He doesn't care if Jaejoong takes all of his clothes off, if he peels his skin off, fuck, he just doesn't care if every photographer in Seoul barges into the living room and takes pictures or a meteor crashes through the window or a giant sinkhole opens up and swallows him whole.

 

"Take them off," he tells the sofa, bones liquifying.

 

Jaejoong takes the pajamas off with such speed Yoochun's convinced there's black magic involved, then grumbles at the boxers.

 

"Those, too," Yoochun says because, really, why not.

 

Jaejoong gets rid of the boxers, too, kinda like he's definitely using some sort of witchcraft, and slides off the couch to crouch by Yoochun's flushed face, nakeder than Yoochun's ever seen him.

 

"It's okay to lie to Yunho, right," he breathes into Yoochun's ear.

 

His teeth scrape against the shell.

 

Yoochun closes his eyes, lips parting.

 

His body's never been this much of a mess. His limbs are lava, his vision is blurry, and his cock actually _hurts_.

 

"Hyung," he says, pawing desperately in Jaejoong's general direction, "sometimes, in manhwa, you gotta have sex to fix things."

 

Jaejoong licks a path up Yoochun's shoulder, then mouths into his jaw, "Yeah, let's fix things."

 

Yoochun's cock twitches against the couch and the friction is almost enough to make him come.

 

"OH, COME ON," Junsu cries out of nowhere, covering his eyes, "YOU HAVE YOUR OWN ROOM."

 

Next to him, completely traumatized, Changmin says, "Did any of us get the power to wipe memories?"

 

Roused by the noise, Yunho stalks out of his bedroom, cranky.

 

He takes one look at the couch, and then there's ten pounds of clothing flying at Yoochun and Jaejoong.

 

It should feel like getting hit by a bucket of cold water or just an actual bucket, but all Yoochun can hear is Jaejoong's sad little _no no no_ _I want I want I want please I want_.

 

So he gathers energy and sits up and covers his shame with a random t-shirt and says, "Changmin, Yunho-wanted-to-be-your-first. And last."

 

And then he runs like hell back to his room, Jaejoong in tow.

 

*

 

"He's going to kill me," Yoochun chants, miserable.

 

Jaejoong locks the door just as Yunho practically embeds a book into it.

 

"Need something stronger," he says about the door, thoughtfully but through a haze of awful filthy thoughts, and then he apparently decides Yoochun is something stronger because he slams him into the door, super naked.

 

Yoochun's overwhelmed by the physical sensations; the cold rough surface scratching at his back and Jaejoong's sweat-slicked body sliding against his, but the mental flashes of _the things I will do to you_ are a billion times worse.

 

Unrepentantly, Jaejoong nudges Yoochun's right leg up, hooking it around himself, then pins him harder, ignoring the fighting on the other side of the door. He pushes two fingers in Yoochun's mouth and visualizes exactly how he's gonna use them in a minute.

 

Panicking, Yoochun pushes him off with enough force to knock him down.

 

"Lines," he says, shaking, "crossing."

 

Jaejoong looks up from the floor, legs spread, all of his weight on his elbows.

 

He's down to wearing only a pair of Spider-Man briefs and his bleached hair is flopping over one eye and he looks perfect and angelic and pure, but Yoochun can hear the waves of absolute sin cresting through him.

 

"...Chun-ah, I can't help it..." Jaejoong says softly, looking hurt and vulnerable, which makes Yoochun feel culpable, which, in turn, makes him drop to his knees between Jaejoong's legs.

 

Spider-Man's web-shooting hand twitches.

 

Yoochun loses it.

 

Shoulders shaking with repressed laughter, he leans on his palms, one on each side of Jaejoong.

 

"Hyung, your power's the worst," he tells him honestly, creeping closer.

 

_Best_ , Jaejoong thinks loudly and leans back on the floor, waiting.

 

So Yoochun thinks, fuck it, he's not gonna survive the day anyway, and situates himself between Jaejoong's skinny thighs, skimming his fingers over the inappropriately placed Spider-Man.

 

Jaejoong arches up, eyes closing. His hands palm the hardwood floor, his lips part, and his ass lifts off the ground.

 

Mesmerized, Yoochun cups the cotton.

 

His cock pulses in tandem with Jaejoong's.

 

Jaejoong opens his eyes.

 

They're hooded with lust.

 

Completely undone, he thinks _want your mouth_ and _suck you_ at the same time.

 

And then the lock pops open.

 

"TELL HIM YOU'RE MAKING SHIT UP," Yunho demands.

 

Yoochun snaps his head around.

 

Yunho's storming the threshold, flanked by a mortified Junsu and a flustered Changmin.

 

Yoochun freezes.

 

"SM won't pay for my therapy," Changmin says, eyes dead, "they barely pay for my food—"

 

_My butt's cuter_ , Junsu thinks, startling Yoochun, then just seems to give up on life and wanders off down the hallway.

 

"Tell him that's not what I _ever_ said or thought," Yunho barrels on, completely oblivious. "That I was only upset because he's so young and it's my job to protect him and—"

 

Jaejoong makes a frustrated noise and sits up, eyes flashing in ways Yoochun's never seen. "Is that what you wanna hear, Changmin-ah?"

 

"No," Changmin answers instantly, then bangs his head on the door frame, cheeks dark.

 

"What do you wanna hear," Jaejoong asks pointedly.

 

"I hate you," Changmin manages to growl at Jaejoong before other words relentlessly spill out. He buries his face in the door and sighs helplessly, "I want him to get so mad he shows me how to do it right."

 

Yunho seems totally frozen.

 

Yoochun can't hear anything from him except maybe a metric ton of white noise.

 

After a long moment, Yunho composes himself and turns disapproving eyes to Yoochun and Jaejoong, orders, "Get dressed," then tugs Changmin away from the door by his hair.

 

The resulting little spark of pleasure echoes and Yoochun hates everyone.

 

"Let's talk," Yunho says.

 

"I don't wanna _talk_ ," Changmin says then makes a horrified face.

 

Eyes dark, Yunho stares. "We're gonna _talk_."

 

"Please talk somewhere else," Jaejoong says, tone desperate.

 

Yunho's tongue pokes out to lick his lips, eyes trained on Changmin's. "I'm serious. You two get dressed and you," he tells Changmin, "come with me."

 

And then they're gone but they've left the door open and Yoochun really should put some clothes on—

 

Jaejoong latches onto his collarbone, arms snaking around his waist and pulling him closer.

 

_I'll die if you don't_ , Jaejoong projects dramatically.

 

"You aren't what I thought I'd be doing when I woke up today," Yoochun grins impishly because his body's heating up again, at the speed of sound or light or something infinitely faster.

 

"You never thought we'd do this eventually?" Jaejoong mumbles, offended, and scoots until Yoochun's straddling his lap.

 

"Nope," Yoochun says and leans his chin on Jaejoong's shoulder.

 

Jaejoong stills.

 

"I wish you'd gotten Changmin's power," he says quietly.

 

Yoochun never ever ever wants to get _that_ power.

 

Suddenly looking morose and weirdly resigned, Jaejoong slides his hands down Yoochun's ass and asks into his hair, "So, for you, the only way this happens is under some sort of magical duress?"

 

Yoochun's gut twists.

 

"You're a guy," he says, too flippantly.

 

There's a string of hurt pulsing in his head, a long unsteady line like on a heart monitor, dipping and spiking through levels of intensity.

 

Jaejoong pulls away.

 

"Are you done—" Junsu asks, poking his head in, "WHY IS YOUR DOOR OPEN IF YOU'RE NOT DONE."

 

And then Jaejoong gently pushes Yoochun off and stalks away.

 

*

 

"It's been two hours," Junsu whines.

 

It's been two hours and seven minutes and fourteen seconds.

 

Not that Yoochun's obsessively checking every clock in the house.

 

"I wonder if this is like a twenty-four hour bug thing," Junsu continues, pursing his lips. He pats the couch cushion between them, inspecting his kitty claws and finishing with a quiet little _ugh, these are really cute_.

 

Absentmindedly, Yoochun turns back to the TV.

 

He can kinda hear Yunho and Changmin talking in circles over each other in the adjoining room but no matter how hard he focuses, he can't hear anything from the balcony.

 

Except really heavy Japanese rock.

 

His body's calmed down but his mind's a mess.

 

He wants to send someone to check on Jaejoong but he doesn't want Jaejoong to... jump anyone.

 

Else.

 

But someone should really go see how he's doing. He could be cold and hungry and broken. He could... be parachuting off the balcony and roaming the streets for attractive people. He could be _finding_ attractive people. Or unattractive people. He could be touching them.

 

They could be touching him.

 

"I'll go bring him some food," Yoochun says hastily and sprints off the couch and into the kitchen.

 

"Yeah," Junsu sighs, shaking his head at the TV, " _food_."

 

*

 

Four slices of cheese count as food.

 

Yoochun sticks out a paper towel, proffering the loot to Jaejoong.

 

Headphones on, Jaejoong looks up, unimpressed. "Not hungry."

 

Yoochun shuffles his weight to one knee.

 

A couple hours ago, he was beneath Jaejoong, being explored and worshiped, and being totally cool with it, and now he's standing before him, wishing he were Changmin.

 

"Are you still..." he starts awkwardly, gesturing vaguely at the pillow in Jaejoong's lap.

 

Jaejoong leans his cheek to the railing, left headphone thumping against the metal.

 

"...do you still need me to—" Yoochun starts.

 

"Not you," Jaejoong says coldly.

 

Yoochun pauses.

 

"Why not me," he grumbles.

 

Jaejoong scowls at him. "Because no one understands me like you do and I'm not gonna fuck that up."

 

Yoochun's heart instantly composes a thousand bittersweet beautiful songs, so he says, "And I don't want you to die. Or touch anyone else."

 

Jaejoong meets his eyes, startled. "Why would I die."

 

Yoochun blinks. "You said—"

 

Jaejoong laughs, raspy. "If sexual tension could kill, I would've died when we moved in together?"

 

Floored, Yoochun frowns. "Okay."

 

Jaejoong's features arrange themselves into a curious expression.

 

"Okay," Yoochun repeats, "let's pretend I have Changmin's power."

 

Jaejoong's jaw goes slack.

 

Yoochun tosses the cheese over the balcony, plops down opposite him, and sticks his feet under Jaejoong's blanket, batting the fern off his face. "Ask anything."

 

A million questions flash through Jaejoong's mind, and then Yoochun picks out the loudest, most recurrently hopeless one, and answers, raw and completely honest, "No. You'd be the only exception. Literally."

 

Jaejoong smiles so beautifully Yoochun wants to fucking cry.

 

"Okay," Jaejoong says, hands shifting under the blanket to grab at Yoochun's ankles, "I want to be that."

 

 

*

 

Yoochun wakes up with a headache.

 

And a backache. And every kind of ache known to man.

 

But Jaejoong snuggles closer, one leg slung over Yoochun's hips, sheets tangled around his calves, and Yoochun suddenly can't make himself care about the soreness or the twinges or the cricks because Jaejoong's the best painkiller in the universe.

 

He squints at the crazy bright sunlight streaming through the blinds and buries his head in Jaejoong's hair, muttering, "Are we back to normal."

 

Jaejoong shivers, face smushed into Yoochun's chest. "I feel the same."

 

Yoochun tries to listen in on any stray thoughts but there aren't any.

 

There's just the warm breath on his skin and an even warmer hand wrapping around his cock.

 

The door opens.

 

"We have practice in an hour," Yunho yawns, tripping over a pile of t-shirts. He takes in the scene, then squares his shoulders, and tells a nearby armoire, "Yeah, I don't know what I expected."

 

"Is everything back to..." Yoochun starts gruffly. Jaejoong's fingers scrape down his shaft. "Ah. Fuck."

 

"Everything's back to normal," Yunho says, clearly pretending there are just squirming baby puppies under the sheets.

 

"Normal's debatable," Changmin greets, eyes mismatched and mouth stretched into a wide, creepy smile. "But the powers are finally gone."

 

Junsu squeezes in between them, showing off his hands, claw-free.

 

"Yeah, thank god," he says but his face is screaming _I want them back_.

 

Jaejoong shifts, cock nudging against Yoochun's hip.

 

"We, uh," Yoochun tries to say, "we'll start getting ready... in... five minutes."

 

"Ten," Jaejoong corrects.

 

The three don't move from the door.

 

"That's really shameless," Changmin complains, pointing an incredulous hand at the sheets. "Do something."

 

Yunho gives him an odd, hungry look and Changmin quickly averts his eyes.

 

"...I'm gonna go to practice," Junsu sighs, waving over his shoulder, "and after, you're all coming to church with me, right."

 

And then Yunho drags Changmin away, too, and Yoochun can't help but flip Jaejoong into the mattress.

 

He crawls on top of him, overwhelmed with want.

 

"We gotta get up," he tells him ardently.

 

Somehow, when Jaejoong smiles, Yoochun knows exactly what he's going to say.

 

"I'm already up."


End file.
